stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar
1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)
so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics
“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…”
The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord.
“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the — good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.
She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.
Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.
“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.
After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”
He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.
“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”
“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.
Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.
“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”
Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”
“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour?
“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”
Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something?
He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.
Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”
Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”
“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”
Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”
Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.
“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?”
Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment.
“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.
“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.
Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile.
“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.
“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”
“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.”
Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”
“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”
“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music.
“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest.
Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”
“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.
Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”
Steve nods. “Yep.”
“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”
He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.
They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.
“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.
Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”
Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”
“And what?”
“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?”
Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”
Dustin groans. “Come on.”
“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”
With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.
When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him.
“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”
“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.
“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”
Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”
It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.
“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”
Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again.
He’ll be counting every single one.
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Usopp has never celebrated Valentine's Day. And it's not that he hasn't had the chance, because he has. In fact, Kaya was always the one saying they should be doing something together, even as friends. But... But Usopp has never liked it? He knows saying that out loud would cause a world war inside the crew because he's aware of how beloved the day is for some of them. But it's just... Isn't it dumb? He thinks it's basically just another way capitalism and big corporations have of taking people's money. If you truly love somebody, you show it every day, not just on a random day in February. Besides, his mom always seemed a bit sad and lonely this time of the year, and Usopp never liked thinking about his parents this way.
But Sanji? Sanji adores it. It's a day of joy and love and he has an excuse to give Nami and Robin flowers and chocolate without being seen as weird. It's still weird but, you know, less weird because now there's a reason behind his actions and they're always just a bit softer on this day. Sanji himself is way softer. He gives Luffy more meat and barely argues with mosshead, and if somebody asks? It's just a day for love. He cannot be bothered to be angry today. His mom loved February 14th. It was one of her favorite days because she kept saying she celebrated all kinds of love, not only the romantic ones. Sanji was always excited to see her at the hospital on those days.
So when they start dating and February comes... They have different reactions to it. It's- It's a bit hard to handle at first.
The sniper realizes it's Valentine's Day right when he wakes up, and he kind of sort of wants to die because he hasn't gotten anything for Sanji and he knows how much this day means to him. Usopp just never thinks about it or remembers until Sanji explicitly screams about it. He blames Nami for not reminding him either. Not that it's her responsibility, but the girl could've helped. Whatever- He's not panicking. He's not. It's a dumb, stupid holiday and there's no need to do anything. He doesn't owe Sanji a Valentine's Day because it's dumb.
Besides. They barely started dating. And Sanji only ever gets gifts to the girls. There's zero chance he's gonna prepare something for Usopp.
Or so he thinks. Because the second he wakes up, there's a box right next to his bunk bed and he knows he's fucked. He doesn't want to open it. He truly doesn't. But if course he does. It's a beret. One he fell in love with a long time ago. Back when they weren't even dating. Back when even the possibility of dating Sanji was just a faint dream. So he- He doesn't even want to ask how the hell Sanji got this or when, but there's so much guilt inside of him that Usopp doesn't want to get out of bed.
But he has to, doesn't he? So he does. And he hates himself a little too much during the whole day. Sanji kisses him oh so sweetly. The pet names are over the charts. The guy won't stop speaking in French, which he knows makes Usopp weak in the knees. He cooks his favorite meals, and aside from the beret, he gives him a bunch of flowers he says he has been growing himself in secret (oh lord, for a botanist that's peak romanticism). And Sanji hasn't even paid much attention to anybody else. Not even the girls. It's as if only Usopp existed. And the thing is-- Usopp is expecting Sanji to throw a tantrum or get angry or be mad about Usopp not doing anything for him.
Sanji doesn't expect anything in return, apparently, and he doesn't seem that bothered about it. That's what ends up fucking up Usopp the most, in the end. Because he knows why Sanji is like that. He knows why Sanji doesn't care about it. He hates it.
He tries to approach the topic subtly:
Usopp: I... Hey, Sanji?
Sanji: Yes, mon trésor?
Usopp: I'm sorry for not getting you anything for today. It's just- You know Valentine's Day is not my thing and I sort of forgot-
Sanji: That's alright. Do you think I'd reduce our relationship to only today?
Usopp: No, of coruse not. But, just saying, that if you want to be angry, I don't mind. You have the right to want these romantic things.
Sanji: As long as you like what I have planned for you, that's all the gifts I need.
But it doesn't sit right with Usopp. The fact that Sanji never thinks about himself this way and yet keeps showering him with love and gifts instead. So he waits until nighttime because he knows it's Sanji's turn to watch the ship and he knows he'll probably be in the kitchen more often than not. It's not much, but he thinks about something he can do for Sanji.
Everybody is asleep when Sanji finds a letter, a notebook, and flowers on the dining table. While Usopp watches his whole reaction from the door, hoping not to get caught. It's a stupid, overly romantic letter that Usopp has written in no time because whenever he thinks about Sanji, the words just come out of him easily, like a story he never wants to stop telling. The notebook is basically just his sketchbook, and it isn't a gift because it wasn't planned to be one, but it is all the drawings he has made of Sanji over the time they've been together, and Usopp thinks that's way better than just any letter. Meanwhile, the flowers are just the most peaceful and beautiful ones of his garden. The ones he uses more for scents rather than explosives.
It's not the best gift he could've made. It really isn't. But he thinks it's enough to show Sanji that he deserves these things too. He doesn't want his boyfriend to spend any other Valentine's Day assuming he won't be getting any form of love from Usopp.
What the sniper isn't expecting is Sanji to start sobbing all of a sudden. That's when Usopp realizes he needs to step into the kitchen. He's panicking a little while Sanji cries, sitting right next to him and holding his wet cheeks in his hands to check if he's alright. Maybe he has truly fucked up with the gift? Maybe he didn't like it? Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten involved. Fuck. Fuck.
But... But Sanji starts laughing? For some reason? He laughs between tears and grabs Usopp's hands in his and kisses them, holding him close.
Sanji: I'm sorry. Shit. I hate it when I get like this. I'm sorry. I'll stop.
Usopp: What? No- No, Sanji. What's wrong? Did you not like it-
Sanji: Huh? How could I not like it, dumbass? I'm crying because it's the sweetest, sappiest most romantic thing somebody has made for me and it's from the love of my life. How could I not- Idiot. Shut up.
Usopp: I'm... The love of your life?
Sanji: Did I not make it clear today?
Usopp: Then you... You like it?
Sanji: Idiot. Yes. I do.
Usopp: Well, then expect all of our Valentine's Days to be like this from now on and forever, because your fantastic boyfriend Usopp will be known as the king of Valentine-
Sanji: Dear, I know you love doing that. And I adore it. But the king of Valentine's Day is me and I'm not letting you have the title.
Usopp: But we're together. Then that means we're both kings.
Sanji: We would if we were married.
Usopp: Then... We should-
Sanji: Stop right there.
Usopp: Huh? Why can't you let me be romantic?!
Sanji: ... If you say it I don't think I'll be able to handle it-
Usopp: Oh, shit, you want to marry me for real?
Sanji: Yes? No- Not yet. Someday. I- Please, don't make me cry again.
Usopp truly can't wait for the next Valentine's Day with him.
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